


The Right Thing

by xLonelyDreamerx



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It, Mallory may not be a witch, Michael deserved better, Michael is the Antichrist and that should be a warning, The ending sucked and I'm fixing it, Time Loop, Time Travel, We Die Like Men, independent Mallory, no betas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-08-23 20:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16625837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLonelyDreamerx/pseuds/xLonelyDreamerx
Summary: There's a difference between doing things right and doing the right thing.OrMallory’s most famous character trait has always been kindness. Therefore, when she sees the crying boy crossing the street, she doesn’t have the heart to do what it's right.AkaMallory doesn’t kill Michael and forms another plan.





	1. A change of Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [The Right Thing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17035871) by [CatlynDay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatlynDay/pseuds/CatlynDay)



> American horror story fucked me over again and I’m totally pissed with the ending. So, I’m here for the rescue!  
> Don't worry I'll update Paradise Lost in a few days

* * *

_“Even if time travel is impossible, it is important that we understand why it is impossible.”  
– Stephen Hawking_

* * *

 

 

The thing about drowning is that you don’t actually inhale until right before you black out. Mallory almost drowned once when she was a kid. She could remember leaving the safety security of her father’s arms because she was supposed to be _a big girl_ and “ _You have to know how to swim, Mal”_

The whole thing is called voluntary apnea, Mallory had googled it once and read that it’s a natural instinct to not let any water.

It was true

As Mallory goes under the water, she can’t help but keep her mouth sat until she feels her head is ready to explode. Her mouth finally opens and the water come in, but it’s not cold.

Mallory is burning

She can feel a fire being form inside her body. _It hurts, it hurts!_ She wants to come up to the surface but she _can’t_. Everything depends on her.

Her eyes snap open and she sees nothing but darkness.

It’s not scary anymore, it’s… it’s actually kind of _peaceful_.

There isn’t any pain or noise from the world.

Mallory fades and her last thought is that if this is what death is really like, then she might be alright.

 

**.**

**~**

**.**

 

Mallory wakes up outside of an old church and she doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She gets up and notices that her clothes are strangely dry.

An old man with a concerned look approaches her.

“Are you alright, young lady?” He is old with little white hair on his almost baldhead. His face is strict but there’s kindness in his eyes.

 _No, I’m not._ She wants to say. “I’m lost” is what comes out. “What year is it?”

She looks at the strand of golden hair and wonders, _did it work?_

The man doesn’t reply instead he looks at her cautiously as if she is crazy and Mallory can’t really blame him.

“Your nose is bleeding. Do you need me to take you to a hospital?”

Her hand touches her nose and truth be told the man is right.

_It worked_

“Yes” she whispers, “I need help”

The man relaxes a bit and straightens his back. “Come on then,” he gestures with his hand. “My son is a doctor at the hospital downtown. I can take you with my car. I promise I’m not a psycho”

Wiping her blood clumsily, Mallory gives him an encouraging smile. “I trust you”

_It’s myself that I don’t trust_

The man whose name she discovers is David takes her to his car. On the way, they engage to a small talk mostly about her, where she’s from, what she was doing along in the church, where her parents are. Mallory feeds him half-truths and lies.

David stops outside of a market to buy a pack of cigarettes. “Do you want something?”

Mallory shakes her head and thanks him. He was stupid for leaving a stranger inside his car but at least he was considerate.

“I’ll be right back”

_I won’t be_

Mallory slides over the driver’s seat, trying to bury the guilt for taking advantage of an old man’s kindness.

 _After the deed is done, I’ll return the car._ She vows as she starts driving.

Finding Michael’s house is not as difficult as she thought to be. She only made a few stops to ask people where the Murder House was and they directed her to it.

It was an hour drive due to the traffic but it gave Mallory the time to enjoy all the things that she missed the most throughout the chaos; the clean air, the bright colours, the sky, the _sun_. God, she had missed the sun.

 Eventually she arrives to a beautiful neighbourhood and now all she has to do is wait.

She quickly finds that waiting is the worst.

There are doubt in the back of her mind, whispering. _You’re about to commit murder._

Mallory shuts her eyes tightly; the weight of the mission feels suffocating. Cordelia said she was ready for it after many months of waiting, but Mallory still feels like the same lost girl before she had arrived at the academy.

Her head hits the seat so hard she immediately gets a headache.

 _You’re being ridiculous._ She tries to reason. _This is the Antichrist, for God’s sake! He killed your sisters._

The thought of them only made the tight knot worse in her stomach and she inhales deeply, thinking that if Cordelia or Myrtle were here it would be easier.

 _You are doing a service, not a murder._ She repeats inside her head over and over again like a prayer.

A loud thud causes her to jump up, and her eyes immediately go to the figure leaving the house.

Mallory frowns, this figure was a fucking teen, with a yellow shirt and a worn out jean jacket that was too small for his lean body. With a startled realisation, Mallory realises she had never actually seen Michael before the outpost.

The boy barely resembled the cold, harsh man who wanted to murder her and her sisters. His hair was shorter and his face more soft and innocent looking but that could be due to the tears on his eyes.

_God, he looks like a child_

Mallory huffs and scolds herself. This was the Antichrist, the man who would cause the apocalypse, the one who would murder her sisters.

What would they think of her for having second thoughts?

Cordelia would probably be sympathetic and wise. “It’s alright Mallory, looks are deceiving but as a supreme we always have to take hard decisions”

Myrtle would be forgivable but firm. “Just remember who he is, my dear, and the desire to run him over will come instinctively”

Madison would be her usual self. “Just run him over already, bitch!”

Mallory swallows and repeated aloud with a trembling voice,  “You are doing a service, not a murder.”

Conveniently enough, the neighbourhood is empty as the young version of Michael Langdon walks away from his property.

Greeting her teeth, Mallory tries to remember everything that has happened before she left the outpost – _how long has it been? Days? Hours?_ – and twists the ignition key to start the car

_You are doing a service, not a murder._

Her fingers tighten around the wheel.

As she gets closer, she takes a better look at him and she hates it.

He looks like a mess

  _You are doing a service, not a murder._

He looks up suddenly like a deer in headlights and Mallory slams down the brake pedal abruptly.

The car stops an inch away from him and he’s frozen, staring at her wide eyed. Mallory feels a shiver running down her spine. She’s out of breath and she feels like her heart is ready to explode.

Mallory had once thought to be a simple girl, then she discovered there was something extraordinary within her because she was a _witch_. From a magical creature, she turned back into a common assistant and then to a slave who was supposed to serve with no questioning.

She can’t separate who she is anymore; a witch among witches, a mortal within mortals, or a servant against gods?

_Sometimes I feel like there’s someone buried inside me_

Even without the identity spell, that horrible feeling of being a prisoner inside her body is still there.

Mallory doesn’t know who she is, but she knows what she can and can’t do.

She can’t commit a murder

The boy – _Michael_ (God, it was hard to think that the lost man-child was the same man with the demonic face from outpost 3) was still unmoved, it was as if he was waiting for her to run him over. Mallory beckons him to come close with a quick motion of her hand and he obeys like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

The air seems fragile as Mallory rolled down the window. “Are you alright? I didn’t hit you, did I?” She asks with false tone of worry.

Michael seems to be waking up from his frozen state. He nods with a sniff, his eyes still red, his cheeks still wet with tears.

“Come with me”

It doesn’t come out neither as a question nor as an order.

Michael looks at her hesitantly, biting his lower lip and Mallory still can’t wrap herself around his childlike behaviour.

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers…” He admits almost shyly.

“My name is Mallory, I’m here to help you.”

Michael cocks his head to the side, staring deeply in her eyes as if searching for something. “How can you help me?”

Mallory blinks at the despair in his tone and her face softens at she points the seat beside her. “Come and find out”

Michael looks back at the house, nobody had come out – they were still alone, and then back at her.

Perhaps it was another trick by Satan to cause more destruction, or maybe it was a miracle made by God himself to give another chance. Or maybe everything in this world is a mess: God, the devil, and she’s stupid enough to risk this golden opportunity of salvation.

Mallory doesn't know if there are fates who control their thread of life, but for whatever reason Michael walks around and gets inside the car.

It takes him ten whole minutes after they drove off to finally speak again.

“I’m Michael”

Mallory smirks, without taking her eyes off the road.

“I know”

 

* * *

_"The most useful form of time travel would be to go back a year or two_  
_and rectify the mistakes we made."_  
_– Matt Lucas_

* * *


	2. Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mallory battles with herself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll edit it later

* * *

_"Tut, tut, child!" said the Duchess. "Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it."  
– Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures In Wonderland_

* * *

 

Mallory wakes to the sound of laughter.

 _Am I dead?_ She wonders, blinking owlishly. The bed had been hard and uncomfortable.

She pulls herself up, and her eyes go to Michael who is watching the TV with undeniable attention.

So, it wasn’t a dream

With a quick movement, she tears the sheets of and head to the tiny bathroom, ignoring how Michael’s head snapped up as soon as he heard her.

She washes her face as if that would be enough to also clean the mess

_I’m such an idiot_

She had been too emotional last night. During the car ride, Michael wouldn’t stop asking questions; who she was, where she was from, why she was with him, if they were related.

She only turned on the music to ignore him and he seemed to take the hint with a pout.

As soon as they were safely inside the hotel, Mallory had casted a sleeping spell and started about the consequences of her choices.

She didn’t know anything about the spell – other than it had never worked and the witches who attempted had died. What did it mean for her though?

She couldn’t go back to present time with this Michael, could she? And if she did, what would she find? Every witch was dead except Myrtle

The thought of asking help from the Cordelia from 2015 had crossed her mind but Mallory couldn’t bring herself to ruin her life; Cordelia was probably blissfully happy. Plus, she doubts she could do any help – she knew even less about the spell.

 _Damn it!_ Mallory blinks and bursts into tears. Her fingers dig into her scalp as she’s assaulted with a wave after wave of realization and loss and hopelessness – and _pain_.

With Zoe and Queenie’s death, there had been rage – rage at Michael and Cordelia and Myrtle and herself.

With Cordelia’s death, there had been sorrow, and a sense of futility

Mallory thought herself familiar with all these things but her body trembles uncontrollably and she wishes she was with them, with Coco and Madison and all the other who had probably died for her – _The Supreme._

_I could still do it; fill the bathtub, whisper the words and return to die with them_

And the hate comes roaring, consuming her – Mallory feels as though she’s about to explode with the force of it, with the strength of her rage.

She hates Cordelia for sacrificing herself, hates Madison for being willing to protect the coven when she stood no chance, Coco for plotting their escape when she had been a purple and Mallory a grey.

And it is at the thought of her, with her blond hair and he bright grin, and snarky voice, that Mallory nearly breaks.

Nearly

Eventually, her body stops trembling and her eyes are now dry.

_“You’re special Mallory, and we need you”_

With those words settling in her heart, Mallory breathes

She can’t kill Michael but she can still save the coven. She reminds herself, breathing hard. She could save her sisters, and prevent Michael before he even started, by teaching him – _guiding_ him.

Mallory’s head feels terribly light all of a sudden, her chest ready to burst from excitement and exhilaration and _relief_ , crushing relief, because everything will be alright again.

She can fix this.

She has a proper plan now

And while she may not have any money yet, she has all the magic she needs.

 _Bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time._ She remembers that line when she and Coco were watching Harry Potter and Coco wouldn’t stop comparing their worlds.

Surely, if there is any God or some mysterious forces of time, nobody would punish her too harshly for changing one of the most dangerous creatures in the world. She’d be saving countless lives.

 _I’m not meddling with history_ , Mallory tells herself, as she opens the door. _I’m correcting it._

**~**

“Hello,” she forces out, after a pregnant pause.

“Hello,” Michael returns politely, absently. His voice is high and small, his body ling but thin. He really is a child.

He is also the antichrist

“I’m sure you must have many questions” _No doubt_

He nods, and his eyes are too eager, too intelligent and within them, she can see a shadow of Langdon – the man who had interrogated her

“In your life things have occurred around you that you couldn’t explain. Maybe it was just a fleeting thought you had or a moment of rage, But then it happened – like magic.”

“Magic?” His voice echoes .”I have magic?”

The wonder in his voice helped her relax.  “What did you think it was?”

At that he shrugs. “I thought I was the only one who could do it.”

“There are many people – like you, Michael. And with my help, I can teach you how to control your powers, without letting them overpower you.”

He draws himself back, with eyes narrows and a hesitant voice, “Why would you want to help… _me_?”

“Don’t you want my help?” She asks instead.

His face transforms into a horror and he nods quickly. “What about grandma?”

“I think that we should let her be for a while, huh? You can visit her in the future when she’ll be more… open-minded.”

Mallory tries to give him a smile of encouragement but she’s certain it’s she’s grimacing. “Tell me Michael, have you ever been to New Orleans?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um, hi?

**Author's Note:**

> This is one-shot that I wrote few hours after the finale to take the anger off my chest. But if you're interesting to see a continuations let me know.


End file.
